There’s a new blood sport online, and it’s becoming more predictable than ever. It’s the ritualistic sacrifice of the woman of the moment. The rules are simple: find a woman thriving, elevate her to the highest pedestal of public affection, and then, with ravenous glee, kick it out from under her. The internet was meant to give everyone a voice, but for women in the spotlight, it often does the opposite. Their rise is fast and thrilling, until the backlash begins. And when it hits, it’s harsh, often unfair, and deeply personal. The bottle of cruelty keeps spinning, and it always stops for a new woman to pick on.
Let’s start with the recent case files.
Ayra Starr, the Benin-born Mavin star, was on a global victory lap. Her Grammy-nominated hit, ‘Rush’, achieved Platinum certification in the UK. As she celebrated this milestone, a man on the internet—a complete stranger—decided she smells. To “prove” his baseless theory, he circulated a series of video clips, maliciously reframing every stray hand gesture from a friend or colleague near her as someone recoiling in disgust.
The claim was ludicrous, a fiction built for maximum humiliation, and it wasn’t even original. This was a recycled smear, the same playbook that had been run against Big Brother Naija reality star Tacha years prior. Yet, it still spread like a digital contagion, primarily championed by a legion of men who latched onto it with glee. The goal wasn’t to critique her music, because let’s face it, we don’t chant Sabi Girl for no reason; it was to find a vulgar, intimate way to humiliate her after prior failed attempts.
But here’s the kicker: when was the last time you saw this weapon used against a famous man? When was the last time a male artist’s career was threatened by bad hygiene rumors, especially when stereotypes suggest it’s a battle their gender is far more likely to be losing? The silence is deafening.
Then came the turn of Tems.
For years, she has been lauded not just for her soul-drenching vocals, which have earned her a Grammy, but also for a voluptuous physique that many have celebrated. She has been the embodiment of a particular kind of confident, curvy beauty. Until a few days ago, the script flipped. Another man, another unsolicited observer from the digital cheap seats, proclaimed that “real ones knows she just has big laps not actual ass”. Suddenly, the same online crowds that had praised her body were now dissecting it for depreciation.
Tems , from her response, saw through his misogynistic bullshit: a woman’s body is public property, its value subject to the whims of the male gaze, to be audited and devalued at any time.
The most telling exhibit is Tyla.
The South African singer’s viral hit “Water” made her an instant global darling. She was fresh, talented, and charming. The world was hers. But the honeymoon phase for a celebrated woman is dangerously short. The hate train left the station at full speed. Her “crimes”? A list of trivialities so minor that they expose the malicious intent behind the criticism. She was branded “rude” and “uppity” for:
- Handing Lil Nas X her award to hold on stage because it was too heavy – An act of practicality twisted into one of arrogance.
- Not grinding on Usher at his Brooklyn concert – A refusal to perform sexualized subservience for a male icon.
- Identifying as an Amapiano artist, the genre of her origin, rather than the broader, Nigerian-dominated Afrobeats label – An assertion of her specific cultural identity.
Suddenly, Tyla, the beloved breakout star, was recast as an “Uppity African.” The subtext is deafening. She wasn’t grateful enough. She wasn’t performing femininity in the way the audience demanded. She was asserting her own boundaries, her own identity, and for that, she had to be punished.
This isn’t just about artists.
Look at content creator Hauwa, who started gaining visibility for her humorous takes on an anonymous Twitter account (now X). The moment she revealed her face and identity as a woman who is outspoken about her feminist values, her jokes began to sound dry to people who didn’t like her pro-women beliefs. The love they had for her when she was faceless, when she was voiceless, curdled into vile, misogynistic hatred, almost overnight.
Even the seemingly untouchable are vulnerable DJ Cuppy, born into immense privilege, was initially seen as a cool, accessible billionaire’s daughter. When she ventured into a music career, the public turned against her. Granted, she may not be the most technically gifted musician, but the sheer volume and viciousness of the vitriol she received were entirely disproportionate to her harmless pop offerings. It seems as if her sin wasn’t making bad music, it was daring to take up space as a woman shamelessly, and one of privilege at that. She was expected to be a quiet heiress, not an aspiring artist who carried her craft on her head.
What these cases reveal is a disturbing, underlying misogyny that dictates the terms of a woman’s public life. The internet’s affection is a conditional loan, and its interest rates are impossibly high.
The pattern becomes even more sinister when a woman’s personal life intersects with a famous man, especially when abuse is involved.
This is where the famous man’s fanbase is weaponized as a tool to bully the woman on the opposite side of the conflict—or perhaps more accurately, where the fanbase becomes a convenient banner for a much larger, uglier crusade. You have to wonder if it’s even the “fanbase” doing all the work, or if the conflict simply provides a signal flare for any man with a misogynistic axe to grind.
Take Halle Bailey, for example. The world fell in love with her as Disney’s real-life Little Mermaid. Her ethereal voice and trailblazing role made her a symbol of a new generation of Black grace and talent. She was adored, celebrated, and protected. Then, the fairytale shattered when she sought judicial protection from her allegedly abusive ex-partner, the rapper DDG. His male-dominated fanbase mobilized not in support of a potential victim, but as an army to harass and discredit her. She became the villain in a story where she was seeking safety. Disappointed, but not surprised at this point.
Another potent example is Megan Thee Stallion. Remember when she wasn’t just a musician, but a cultural movement? She was the architect of ‘Hot Girl Summer,’ celebrated globally for her confidence and her gospel of unapologetic female empowerment, until the successful popstar became a survivor of a violent crime perpetuated by Tory Lanez, who now sits in prison for shooting her.
From Tory Lanez’ fan base, Megan Thee Stallion endures a relentless campaign of online harassment that seeks to portray her as a liar. Notice the contrast: when Megan beefed with Nicki Minaj, the fallout, while intense and driven by Nicki’s fan base, the notorious Barbz, was largely contained within the realm of stan wars. But when the conflict is Megan versus a man who shot her, the nature of the bullying shifts. It becomes a crusade, largely led by men, to absolve the male perpetrator and crucify the female victim. It’s a terrifying poll on whose pain is believable, whose truth is valid. A man’s reputation, it seems, is worth more than a woman’s reality and well-being.
Why does every woman the internet celebrates end up being torn apart?
Because the coronation is a leash. We are not celebrating these women for their autonomy; we are celebrating them for fitting a mould. The moment they break it—by asserting a boundary, having an opinion, changing their body, defining their own identity, or, most unforgivably, accusing a man of harm—the celebration ends, and the public flogging begins.
The internet has become a system of control designed to remind every woman who dares to achieve public success of the unspoken terms and conditions: be beautiful, but not in a way that you control. Be successful, but be endlessly, performatively grateful. Have a voice, but never use it to challenge the status quo. And above all, never, ever threaten the comfort and dominance of men.
The digital stake is re-erected every week. The kindling is gathered through both public and faceless accounts, including gossip blogs. And the crowd roars for a new sacrifice.
The only question is: which woman of the moment is next?
